


There Are No Mistakes (Only Happy Accidents)

by GrannyBoo



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: AU: Accidental Baby, Angst, Baby-care, Both parents, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Hurt, M/M, Portrayal of negative reactions to sudden parenthood, Spells Gone Wrong, Want to establish this: both parents react poorly, non-established relationship, suddenly parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-09-23 20:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17087033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrannyBoo/pseuds/GrannyBoo
Summary: "So why am I here?"Fjord stands to the side while Caleb carves the sigil into the dirt, carefully replicating the symbols in his book before placing a small pile of gems they’d collected from their most recent loot. They should do, nearly 1000 gold worth of gems was far more than most of the spells he and Jester cast called for. It should be enough, right?“Because I am casting a spell that is more powerful than I am used to and have never cast before. There is always a possibility that something will go wrong so you are here to…well just to ensure I do not die doing this,” Caleb says far more casually than he should, unsettling Fjord.“Why’re you casting it then?”“…why not?”A dangerous phrase to reason with.-or-Caleb and Fjord accidentally make a baby.PT 1 OF AN ONCOMING SERIES <3 HOLD TIGHT KIDDIES





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO MY FRIENDS, welcome to this new piece of hell I've carved out from canon and moulded to my own designs. I may need to add some tags later as its not a finished fic, but please keep an eye on the additional tags to see if anything is a problem <3
> 
> There's a short comic! Check it out on my twitter @oakyboo https://twitter.com/Oakyboo/status/1075673945284567040 Go give it a like, hopefully I"ll have more art out soon. <3

**_ Chapter One _ **

Caleb is smarter than most, definitely the smartest of the Mighty Nein. But there are caveats that come with that sort of intellect, hidden issues that arise with knowing you are one of, if not _the_ , smartest person in the room.

You believe you are correct. That niggling voice of uncertainty about your choices is silenced with facts, and most of the time, this is reasonable. But if you believe the information you are silencing that voice with is correct when in reality, you’ve filled in the blank spaces with close-enough or it-must-be-this, then you leave yourself open to a mess of problems.

Caleb is no exception to this.

It starts within the walls of the Invulnerable Vagrant.

Caleb had reached a point of stagnancy; no spells to buy from Pumat he hadn’t already purchased and replicated in his own tome, but the itch in the back of his mind, the one that compelled him to learn more, cast more, _know more_ …it led him to watching the simulacrum work, brow furrowed in thought as he wondered what it would be like, having multiples of himself, or of his companions with them in the field. Another Yasha to level the creatures they faced, another Nott to disarm traps with none of the danger to the original, another Jester or Caduceus to heal them when the fights were particularly rough.

It would be useful at the very least and game-changing at the best.

So, he enquired.

“Well, uh, Prime didn’t make us himself but we are familiar with the methodology utilised,” his careful cadence is soothing but Caleb still felt out of sorts, jittery, wanting to take a look at the spell, dissect it, learn it.

“Might I have a look? I am very much interested in learning how it works,” Caleb requests, seeing the hesitant look on this particular Pumat’s face. The simulacrum looks around, the shop free of the others, just Beau browsing the magical cloaks in the corner with no interest in the spell-talk going on by the counter.

“Now I didn’t show this to you. And, respectfully, you are not capable of casting this particular spell if your purchase history is any indication of the growth of your abilities. Prime didn’t make us, we were a gift from the Assembly, so understand, this is not a comment-“

“I understand, please, may I look?” Caleb asks, receiving a resigned sigh from this Pumat who pulled out a thick tome from, based on the clicks and rattles, was living in a safe beneath the counter. He flips to a page with a complicated looking sigil that Caleb is already trying to commit to memory while this Pumat rambles on about the intricacies of some of the symbols. Caleb suddenly has the book snatched out of view as another Pumat enters, the pages disappearing beneath counter but he has a fairly clear image of the sigil still imprinted in his mind. He needs to replicate it as soon as he can, break it down into its elements.

“Hey there me, everything all hunky dory out here?”

“All handled, me,” the Pumat in front of Caleb smiles, giving Caleb a conspiratorial wink as the other Pumat disappears back behind the curtain, two identical voices discussing something quietly.

“What sort of components does it require to cast?” Caleb asks, but this Pumat shakes his head.

“Showing you the runes is bad enough but as I said before, this is a complex and powerful spell. Respectfully, sir, I would be doing a lot of harm in telling you any more,” he insists and Caleb nods, worrying at the inside of his cheek and forcing a smile.

“Thank you, I appreciate the glance,” he replies, going ahead with the order he needs to place on Nott’s behalf for a new flask, he original one eaten by a bullit, then leaving with Beau to head back to the Nein’s temporary residence at the Leaky Tap.

“Anything interesting in there?” Beau asks offhandedly, watching as Caleb fishes his book from his holster, scribbling frantically to replicate the sigil he’d seen.

“Potentially.”

-

He doesn’t consider casting the spell until they’re in the middle of the forest, a precaution in case it goes terribly wrong. While he believes the runes in the sigil are all correct, the components were entirely guess work. He needed some sort of focus component, something of value for the spell to consume. The runes themselves were a combination of disciplines, primarily illusory magic. He would be creating something not quite real but real enough to interact with the material plane.

“So why am I here?”

Fjord stands to the side while Caleb carves the sigil into the dirt, carefully replicating the symbols in his book before placing a small pile of gems they’d collected from their most recent loot. They should do, nearly 1000 gold worth of gems was far more than most of the spells he and Jester cast called for. It should be enough, right?

“Because I am casting a spell that is more powerful than I am used to and have never cast before. There is always a possibility that something will go wrong so you are here to…well just to ensure I do not die doing this,” Caleb says far more casually than he should, unsettling Fjord.

“Why’re you casting it then?”

“…why not?”

A dangerous phrase to reason with.

Caleb takes a seat before the sigil, book propped up in his lap and hands outstretched, he murmurs what he considered the best incantation variant (it fits perfectly, he reaons) for the runes in front of him, feeling energy spark at his fingertips as the words resonate with the symbols, glowing in the dirt in front of him. Fjord steps a little closer, his leg brushing against Caleb’s shoulder just as a flash of light bursts from the centre of the sigil, the gems hovering in the air a foot off the ground, glowing brightly.

There is stillness, a quiet hum in the air as Caleb finishes the incantation. Then silence.

**_BOOM_ **

Caleb vaguely registers the pained grunt as Fjord is thrown backwards, the same as him. There’s a brief moment of the thud of the ground at his back before he feels something drain out of him; his energy, his magic, some parts of him sapped until, finally, the force of the blast dissipates and he’s able to prop himself up with shaking arms, Fjord rubbing the back of his head, trying to shake of a potential concussion while they both look in front of them at the sigil.

“Caleb…”

“I…I see it.”

“Ain’t it supposed to be…grown?”

Caleb crawls closer, taking his book from where it had fallen on the ground with his eyes fixed on the entity in the centre of the circle.

An infant.

Or the illusion of one, if the spell is to believed. But that isn’t right, that’s not what-…

“ _Ja_. And it is supposed to look like me, not like-“

“Its got your hair. And your eyes,” Fjord muses, kneeling beside Caleb as they both stare. The child can’t be more than a year old, pudgy green cheeks dotted with freckles that framed bright blue eyes. A mop of curly, unruly russet hair brushed the tips of pointed ears as the infant looks up at them curiously, little cheeks dimpling as they smile at Caleb and Fjord. “But the rest looks like…”

Caleb’s eyes widen and he can feel the blood rush from his face as he pales and frantically goes through the book, scanning for what went wrong, where the sigil was incorrect, he replicated it perfectly, didn’t he-?

“ _Caleb_ -“

“I know, _I know_ , I’m looking.”

“Caleb why does it look like-“ the panic in Fjord’s voice is bordering on hysterical while Caleb almost rips the pages in his book trying to figure out where he went wrong.

“ _I DON’T KNOW, I AM LOOKING, FJORD.”_

The noise must have alerted their companions, the bushes surrounding them rustling with movement as Beau rushes in, her staff at the ready while the others followed behind. Her staff makes a dull thud as the end hits the dirt, her normally even, monotone laced with a disbelief.

“What the fuck did you do?”

 

-

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\--

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Hope you're enjoying, here's some art I prepared. Feel free to pop by my twitter: [@oakyboo](https://twitter.com/Oakyboo) and scream at me <3


	2. Chapter 2

**_ Chapter Two _ **

The infant-…the _simulacrum_ …is crying.

It has been going on for a few minutes while Caduceus and Jester attempt to help Fjord and Caleb recover from whatever it had been in the spell that sapped them of their energy. Caleb could still had his magic to a degree, he could still feel that rumble of energy in his chest and blood but he felt as though he’d gone a full day’s bout with a dragon and Fjord looks no better, knees shaking when they finally got him upright and swaying with what ends up definitely being a concussion, a small trail of blood leaking from the back of his head from where he’d struck a rock.

“Why is there a- _where did you get a fucking baby!?”_ Beau shouts, the simulacrum’s crying grew more frantic, tears and snot on their face while Nott approached cautiously.

“Don’t curse in front of them!” Jester chided, her hands glowing against Caleb’s chest, filling him with warmth and energy enough to approach the screaming infant. He mumbles in zemnian, looking over the now scorched marks in the earth surrounding the screaming simulacrum- what it had to be. That was the spell, but…

A look around showed the other effects of the casting. The originally verdant forest around them is blackened and dead, leaves stripped of colour, trees bleached white and petrified and the grass around them dry, browned and crackling beneath their feet for at least 100 feet surrounding them, bleeding deeper into the forest. This isn’t right.

“Will it-…What did you do, Caleb?” Nott asks, holding out a hand and the infant looks up at her, sniffling pitifully until her hand is close enough for the child to touch, reaching out stubby little fingers and rubbing over her bandages, transfixed by the texture it seems, enough to calm the tears.

“It was…I was casting the spell that makes the- the copies. But…this is not a copy of myself, it is…” Caleb mutters, Fjord’s confusion and frantic attempts at understanding these chains of events going nowhere.

“Caleb, _why does it look-“_

 _“I DO NOT KNOW_!” Caleb shouted back at Fjord. This was wrong, he memorised the runes, he…

No. Three. Three were not right. There were three fuzzy spots in his memory of the runes, collected at the bottom of the sigil he’d been looking over when Pumat snatched the book away. He hadn’t memorised them right, he hadn’t had enough time to read them. So, he’d substituted. He thought he recalled but it was something else.

He tries to summon the energy to read the magical auras around them but it pulls at his chest like an overworked muscle, in the way it always did when he tried to reach past his limits. He turns to Jester and Caduceus.

“Can you-…” he searches for the words in his frazzled mind, waving towards the baby- _simulacrum._ “Can you detect its aura? What school of magic is this?”

Jester shakes her head, she hadn’t thought about that spell when she’d communed with the traveller that morning, but Caduceus nodded, eyes flashing white as he looks over the infant, still supporting Fjord.

“Conjuration. What was it meant to be?”

“Illusory magic. Mostly, with _some_ conjuration.”

“This,” Caduceus shakes his head, eyes returning to their regular pink hue. “Its all conjuration.”

“No, that cannot-…” Caleb murmurs, reading the runes over. He wasn’t familiar with the configuration, with what the runes meant in their position within this sigil. He needs someone who knows the spells. He needs to see Pumat.

The simulacrum looks up at him, releasing Nott’s bandaged hand and crawling towards him, patting the leg of his trousers as they tried to climb higher, reaching fruitlessly towards him and making senseless cooing noises. Caleb snapped back to focus, shifting out of the way, wincing as the child begins to cry again. Beau looks at all of them, sighing in resignation.

“For fuck’s sake-“ she snaps, stalking forward and picking up the infant before anyone could say otherwise. She curls her arm around beneath it, holding them close and bouncing on the balls of her feet. She sways from side to side and ignores the cries blaring in her ear until the infant stops and quietens down, pawing at her cheek for no reason apparent to them other than just to touch, but otherwise content. Everyone stares at Beau and she gives them a long-suffering look.

“What? It’s a fuckin’ baby, they like being picked up,” she snaps.

“That’s nearly as weird,” Jester pipes up, “as the _baby_ you guys got in the middle of the _forest_.”

“It is _not a baby_ ,” Caleb insists, gesturing towards the symbol. “It was intended to be a simulacrum, a duplicate of myself. But…something…I did not replicate the sigil correctly,” he admits.

“So…you fucked up, and now…” Beau looks at the child then back and forth between Caleb and Fjord. “You and Fjord have a love child-“

“ _Simulacrum,_ ” Caleb hisses, “it is illusory magic, it is not a child, it is a-a-a fake. It is no different than Nott’s mage hand or Jester’s lollipop,” his grasping at straws is noticeable and Beau quirks an eyebrow.

“It feels like a real baby, smells like one- _ow-ow-ow!_ ” She hisses as the child manages to grip some of her hair and tugs, giggling until Beau pulled the hair away and gave it a stern ‘no’. “It’s fucking annoying like one.”

“They appear real, would you think that the Pumats are real?” Caleb counters.

“Honestly, kinda?” Jester approaches Beau, looking over the baby with a smile. “Aaaw, he has your eyes. And your little nose, Fjord-“

“ _Why does he have my nose?_ I didn’t cast the spell, I was just-…here!” Fjord sputtered.

“That’s all the guy needs to do, just be there. No accountability,” Jester sing-songs, still directing her attention towards the child, pulling faces and making them giggle as the wipe the tears and snot from their face with futile, broad strokes until Jester, using the edge of her sleeves, wipes them away.

“Whatever it is, I need to get it to Pumat. It…Jester, can you send him a message telling him what has happened? We have finished our business here, _ja?”_ Caleb asks the group, seeing various nods of agreement.

“Okay-“ she chirps, closing her eyes and holding up her hands, ticking off her fingers as she activates the spell, counting her words carefully. “Hi Pumat, it is Jester, Caleb did something and now we have a baby. It was meant to be one of you…what can do?” she finishes off awkwardly, he ears twitching as she receives a response.

“He says: ‘Respectfully, your friend could have died. Let him know this. Please bring the baby to Zadash, I will look at it, at your earliest convenience.’ So polite,” she muses, closing her eyes again “Thank you Pumat, we will be there as soon as we can. The baby is very cute, if that makes a difference…See you soon….He says that is fine, but in like, word salad,” she waves her hand, reaching out with grabby hands as a silent request to hold the infant.

“Have you ever held a baby before?” Beau asks, hesitantly holding out the child.

“I’ve held Kiri, its fine,” she dismisses, taking a hold of the child, bouncing them in her arms and dancing around in circles, making faces at them.

“How far away from Zadash are we?” Fjord is watches the interaction, a strange expression on his face with his golden eyes fixed on the child.

“Over a week,” Caduceus replies, “nearly two.”

“So we’ve gotta take care of a fuckin’ baby-“ Beau starts, ignoring the sharp glare and insistence that ‘it is a simulacrum’, “for two weeks?” she shifts when Jester brings the baby closer, leaning against her side and encouraging her to make faces as well. The best she attempts is sticking her tongue out at them.

“It does not need ‘taking care of’ it is not _real_ , they do not eat, they do not-“ Caleb waves his hands in frustration freezing when Beau and Jester stiffen, the simulacrum letting out a quiet burp and proceeding to cover Beau in vomit.

“…It _pukes like a real baby_ ,” Beau groans, sputtering in indignation when Jester passes the child back over. “I-…Its _your_ kid, you fix it,” she holds them out, watching Caleb and Fjord step back as though the baby were likely to explode. Rolling her eyes, she carries the infant back to their campground, ranting about ‘useless fucking magic meddlers-‘ disappearing through the trees.

-

It doesn’t take long for the baby to be cleaned up, given a makeshift diaper out of cloth and left in Jester’s and Nott’s temporary care while Beau washes up in the river nearby. Caleb and Fjord sit on the other side of the camp, watching as the tiefling and the goblin entertain the child with their magic, summoning small firework displays or playing peek-a-boo with her mage hand.

“Caleb, I know you keep sayin’ its not real but…shit _look at it_ ,” Fjord whispers, gesturing towards the infant.

“’Him’. At least for the time being, until he decides himself,” Caduceus comments idly from the campfire, handing out bowls of soup before settling down by the giggling infant, who abandons his game of peek-a-boo to play with the fluttering fabric of Caduceus’ sleeve. “You should be on solid foods soon. At least soups,” he murmurs, blowing gently on the spoonful before feeding it to the child, who manages to get it just in his mouth instead of all over himself. Beau returns from her wash and looks over the party, collecting a bowl of soup for herself.

Caleb doesn’t reply to Fjord’s statement, he just watches for a moment, then retires to bed without food, trying to pick out anything in the simulacrum’s giggles and coos and cries that would give away that it is nothing more than an illusion and not…

He goes to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**_ Chapter Three _ **

Fjord wakes to crying; loud piercing cries nearby and he immediately summons his falchion, darting upright and looking around in the dark for whatever the threat was. Blinking blearily, he settles on the sight of Beau, mumbling to a flailing child in her arms. He stands, dismissing his falchion with a flick of his hand, rubbing at his face and shaking off the sleep while Beau looks up from the struggling child.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ugh. You’re up. Good. It’s your turn,” she says, holding out the baby. Fjord looks, with wide eyes, at the crying infant. “Have you never held a baby before?” she asks, like she was begging for the opposite.

“I…no,” he murmurs, watching the baby flail and cry while she bounces him in her arms gently. Beau grits her teeth and looks up at the sky, praying to some god she likely didn’t believe in before looking at Fjord again.

“I hate kids and I’m the only one who knows how to-. Okay, some kids like to sleep. Most kids _don’t_ , they think they’re dying or something, so they freak out when they have to get put to bed. Just- hold him. Rock him, hum something until he falls asleep,” she instructs. Fjord is hesitant, but eventually holds his arms out straight in front of him as though preparing to be passed a sack. Beau stares at him.

“Never held a baby, never held a baby,” she quietly repeats to herself as a mantra, excusing Fjord for his ignorance while she rearranges his arms until he’s formed a makeshift cradle with them, gently transferring the infant to Fjord. The baby’s head is nestled in the crook of his arm, looking up at him with slitted, bright blue eyes, sniffling and making sad little noises in his throat.

“Alright, good. Don’t drop him and just-“ she says, pausing when she sees the way the man stiffens. “What? What’s wrong?”

“You said ‘don’t drop him’ and now its all I can think about- _Beau-“_ his voice drops into a frantic whisper that she waves off.

“Hold him just like that and if he waves his fuckin’ arms just-…don’t go throwing him around and you’ll be fine. Now, rock him and like- hum or something,” she instructs, mimicking the motions with her own arms until Fjord, uncertain and rigid, starts to copy her, eventually smoothing out into something resembling rocking. She starts to hum something, off-key and exaggerated until he gets the message and starts to hum something himself, some nonsense shanty he remembers vaguely, continuing when Beau stops and drops her arms, watching the pair of them carefully. The baby cries, for a little bit, the sound finally petering out into quiet as he finally starts to sleep.

“Good. I’m done, don’t wake him, I’m going on watch,” she breathes, going to walk away but Fjord darts in front of her.

“ _Wait_ what do I do now?”

“…Don’t wake him. Just, I don’t know. You can sleep too, just be careful with like, noise or putting him down or anything,” she whispers. Fjord nods, looking down at the child’s sleeping face, then back up to see Beau has already walked away, taking her position for watch on the outskirts of their temporary camp. He stands awkwardly in the middle of the camp, looking at his still sleeping companions, lingering on Caleb whose back is turned to the fire, rising and falling in a regular rhythm.

“Don’t drop him and don’t wake him. Easy, just-…just don’t-“ Fjord’s stammered words have no effect on the sleeping child. He thinks on what to do, sleeping in his bedroll, flat on the ground didn’t seem like a good idea. He moved around in his sleep normally, he might roll over and- the panic welled up in his chest again but he successfully tamps it down again, deciding on sleeping upright against a tree. He can do that. He’s done that before, its just doing that while…

He manages to settle himself, back pressed against the roots of the tree in a comfortable position, the infant shuffling in his arms for a second and his heart stuttering in his chest before he stops and calms against with a soft noise. Fjord watches as the baby sleeps. He can see what Jester was talking about, there are definitely features he recognises in the baby’s face. His nose, the shape of his chin. He definitely remembers having a lot of baby fat in his cheeks until he slimmed out as a teenager. But there are pieces of Caleb in there as well in the smattering of freckles on his cheeks, the blueness of his eyes and the messy red-brown hair, which was unsettling to think about.

They were on relatively stable ground as companions but in no way were they the kind of friends that can band together and become parents to a magically conjured baby. He admired Caleb (and, on occasion, had fantasies as he sometimes did, but he’s only a person and Caleb is an attractive man beneath the scruff) but he didn’t want to settle down in a little cottage and raise a child with him.

‘ _Simulacrum’_ Caleb’s voice echoed in his head. An illusion given mostly physical form that they had to take to Pumat to be examined and…he wasn’t sure what would happen after. But as Fjord held the child, its face nuzzling into the fabric of his shirt with a soft sigh, Caleb’s voice quietened in his head and he found himself humming again until he himself fell asleep.

-

\--

-

Caleb wakes to giggles, from both Jester and the simulacrum. He opens his eyes and glances around, spotting Jester, crouched down in front of a sleeping Fjord, his arms wrapped around the infant who was still swaddled in cloth but awake and aware, giggles escaping as Jester pulls faces, somehow managing to not wake Fjord as she entertains the entity.

“Such a little cutie, aren’t you, _Kroshka_ ,” she coos. She lets out a sigh before finally gently jostling Fjord awake. He lets out an unattractive snort, looking around and regaining his bearings. “I’ll take him, go eat something. Also he drooled on you,” she points out, waggling her finger at the wet patch on Fjord’s shirt as she collects the simulacrum from Fjord’s arms and chirps greetings at it as she carries it towards the rest of the group.

Fjord rocks forward, cracking his spine and stretching before he finally locks eyes with Caleb, holding his gaze before looking away…almost guiltily.

“Do not get attached, Fjord,” Caleb reminds.

“I’m not.”

Caleb doesn’t believe a word but he doesn’t reply as Fjord collects his pack, heading to the river to wash. He lies on his bedroll, running over the runes again, figuring out the potential meanings of the positions they were assigned in the sigil again, sighing and cursing under his breath when nothing helpful came to mind before heading over to grab breakfast as well.

-

\--

-

“You keep calling him a fake, but, I don’t know…everything about this kid seems real to me,” Beau muses, the infant placed in Jester’s lap, amused by the dangling chains from her horns enough to not wander over to the edge of the moving cart as it had attempted numerous times before.

“It is composed of magic, you do not create an infant with only magic. That is-…it is not possible,” Caleb is at the front of the cart, Nott beside him helping steer while the rest of the party are split amongst their horses and the back of the cart itself.

“When you do your-“ Beau waves her hand over her eyes in a vague gesture, “Magicky detection thing, doesn’t it show what kind of magic it is? Cad said it was conjuration right, not illusion?”

“It is a powerful spell, perhaps some component hides the traces of illusory magic. Not much use is it, making a copy that can be dispelled if any two-bit caster and-“ he pantomimes a small ‘poof’ with his hand, the accompanying noise making the simulacrum giggle which unsettles him. It is familiar. He doesn’t like it. Too similar to the other children in the village, the young ones he’d visit with his mother when he himself was a child. The lack of discrepancies between the real children in his memories and the fake behind him makes him shuffle in his seat.

“Wait, you can dispel him?” Nott asks, sounding a little horrified at the notion.

“Yes. Perhaps I should, Pumat only needs the sigil-“

“No-“ Fjord’s voice cuts in, silent as soon as Caleb looks at him curiously. “Pumat might wanna look at him. Research, you know,” he suggests, his reasoning a thin veil for discomfort.

“…I suppose so,” Caleb sighs, urging the horses a little faster, an oily, familiar voice in the back of his mind, reminding him of the way illusory magic can trick even the most steadfast of minds, leading them to their death. He tries not to pay attention to the way the simulacrum chatters in babytalk to Jester and Beau or the voice in the back of his head.

-

\--

-

“Fjoooord, the baby needs changing~” Jester is holding the baby away from her, nose crinkled and turned away while the baby makes noises of discomfort. That familiar look of mild panic appears on Fjord’s face when he is unsure how to proceed in regards to the simulacrum.

“I don’t know how-“

“You know how to wipe your _own ass_ , don’t you? Come here,” Beau teases, taking the baby and leading Fjord off to the other side of the camp, instructing him in low tones while keeping the child entertained.

Caleb observes. It isn’t right, for all intents and purposes, this entity shouldn’t be functioning the way it is. But it can’t be an _actual_ infant. Magic doesn’t do that, it can create objects, give the appearance of life to constructs, but this-

The amount of energy and the sheer _cost_ of creating a real infant; there is no way 1000 gold’s worth of gems could cover that, or even 5000. His mind flashes back to the dead forest surrounding them, how drained he and Fjord were in the aftermath…

No. He can figure this out, if he can figure out what the runes mean in the configuration, then he can figure it out. But even if he does, the simulacrum would still need to be dispelled. It is an illusory infant; completely without purpose.

He watches as Fjord looks down at the illusion, a look of hesitant joy on his face as it reaches up and grabs at his nose, wincing when its sharp little nails dig in too hard but the smile remains.

It needs to go. It can’t remain, not when it isn’t....

He returns to his book but maintains pieces of his focus on the rest of the camp.

-

\--

-

“How do you know so much about-“ Fjord shrugs his shoulders, the baby secured in its swaddle and drifting off to sleep with the low tones of the half-orc rocking him to sleep.

“Most of its not-so-common sense. Babies are just small people with no filter, no complicated needs. No real emotions beyond ‘happy’, ‘angry’, ‘hungry’, or ‘shit-factory’. I did have to help take care of one in the monastery though. Long story, but I did a lot of babysitting,” Beau explains, leaning back against the tree beside Fjord, eyes closed and just taking in the sounds around them. “This one sleeps a lot easier though. Doesn’t wake up every other hour. And definitely sleeps better with you,” she muses.

“You…you think so?”

“Well yeah? You’re the only one that can get it to sleep without standing there, rocking it for hours. I know I’m buff but persistence workouts like that are a fucking pain,” she complains half-heartedly, opening her eyes and looking over at him. “Still panicking?”

“Not…not so much now. I know Caleb-“

“Dude, Caleb might know magic but the stupid rules are-pff” she waves her hand dismissively, jerking her head to the infant. “I don’t fall for illusions easy, neither does Cad. If that’s an illusion, then I’m gonna feel like a fucking idiot in about a week,” she heaves herself to her feet with a grunt, stretching, her bones popping in her joints.

“…What if he is? And…Pumat’s gotta dispel it, right?” Fjord’s conflicted expression softens Beau’s and she crouches down, adjusting the swaddle ever so slightly, a visual change more than actually necessary, a thoughtful look on her face.

“We’ll see.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeey, feel free to hit me up on twitter @oakyboo if you want to scream about this au or anything. Thanks for reading guys and happy holidays. <3
> 
> The whiskey/honey thing for teething was brought up by the lovely rainbar in the discord, a common cure but not so much nowadays.

**_ Chapter Four _ **

Fjord has no experience with babies. He worked on a ship most of his life and before…well he has no experience with children younger than Kiri had been, so attempting to discern the needs of an infant from the only form of communication it knew how to use was…difficult.

“Why is he still _screaming?”_ Nott asks, her ears covered but unable to block out the piercing shrieks of the baby.

“I-I don’t know, he’s been like this all morning. I tried feedin’, burpin’, singin’-“

“He looks in pain,” Caduceus murmurs, pressing a furry hand to the baby’s cheeks and back, checking his temperature. Fjord is bouncing on his feet, trying to calm the baby when Fjord catches a glimpse of something in the baby’s mouth. Teeth.

“Teeth- teething. I-I think he’s- baby’s do that right? It hurts when their teeth are comin’ in, so-…” he wracks his brain, trying to think of anything else about it he recalls, but nothing comes to mind. He startles when Caleb approaches, something in his hand. He flinches, shifting the baby away from Caleb and for a split moment, they stare at each other, Fjord like he’d been caught out committing some terrible crime, and Caleb thrown by the sudden… _protectiveness_ Fjord was displaying to the entity.

He holds up his hand, showing a little vial of something amber coloured.

“It is honey. And liquor,” he explains, face unreadable like stone, gesturing for the infant.

“What, is it some kinda spell…?“

“No, it is not. Mothers use it to soothe teething pains. The alcohol numbs the gums,” he says, nudging Fjord’s arms back to him so he can reach the simulacrum, taking a biscuit from seemingly nowhere and coating it in the substance, presenting it to the child. “And the honey mellows the taste and helps with application” he murmurs. The infant is confused enough by Caleb’s presence to accept, still sniffling but gnawing at the biscuit regardless, eventually quietening down and appearing satisfied.

“Now you’re on board with Team Baby I guess?” Beau asks, voice muffled beneath the cloak she had covering her head.

“No. It is a duplicate, however incorrectly made it is. But it seems to... _believe_ it is an infant, some element of the spell giving it more sentience and will than normal but nothing more. So, it is necessary to treat it as such for now, I suppose,” Caleb reasons but Fjord stares at him as he wanders back to his pack to rummage through it for his ink and quill, scribbling in his spell book.

“Fine, stay in denial, _Papa Caleb_ ,” Jester teases, receiving only a ‘tsk' of distaste in reply. Fjord, holding the baby, begins to sway again, more out of habit than actual necessity. It was becoming an automatic response, slowly. To sway or hum when he’s holding him. The baby seems happier now, chewing away at his honey and liquor covered biscuit while Fjord is more unsettled than ever at their wizard’s behaviour.

-

\--

-

“Come on, Tally, you’ve gotta eat your dinner,” Fjord sighs, trying in vain to get the baby’s attention long enough to eat some of the soup, jumping and nearly spilling the bowl when he feels Jester leans against his shoulder with a delighted smile on her face.

“What did you just call him?” she gasps and squeals, the baby mimicking the delighted noise, distracted enough from the fire for Fjord to feed him a spoonful of soup. “ _Did you name him?!”_

“Its uh...I called him Tally. Its short for Talcott. I just felt weird callin' him ‘the baby' all the time,” he replies quietly, glancing over at Caleb, “can you keep it quiet though? I don’t want Caleb thinkin' I’ve gotten too attached or anythin’,” he requests but Jester gives him a sly smile.

“You’re totally attached though, aren’t you. Because he’s such a _cutie,_ aren’t you, _kroshka-_ oh. Aren’t you, _little Tally_. Such a cute name-“ she coos, while Fjord’s cheeks redden.

By the end of the night, everyone calls the infant Tally or Talcott.

“Where has this name come from?” Caleb asks, watching as Jester tries to settle the infant down for sleep. Jester doesn’t answer but glances towards the currently sleeping Fjord, who had, according to Beau and Caduceus, been up half the night before with the crying simulacrum, attempting to get it settled enough to sleep while wracked with teething pains, so he’d bedded down as soon as Talcott had eaten, dead to the world on his bedroll by the fire.

“I dunno. Its just super cute, don’t you think so?” She replies. She jerks when Talcott smacks her in the face in his attempts to struggle out of her arms, distressed babbling as he reaches for Fjord. Caleb sighs.

“Give it here.”

Jester eyes him suspiciously but he just holds out his arms and Jester, hesitantly, transfers the baby to the wizard, watching as he adjusts his hold appropriately, looking down at the scrunched up face. Talcott is momentarily stunned by the new face he’s shown but starts to struggle and tries to go back to Fjord. Caleb turns around, pacing slowly around the fire as he hums, a slow, low rumbling tune that sits more in his chest, patting Talcott’s back in time with the song. The baby starts to yawn, blue eyes blinking slowly until they close and remain that way. He uses the cloth the baby is swaddled in to wipe a bit of drool from his chin, looking up with a furrowed brow when he hears Jester’s voice.

“Aaaaaw, I knew you’d come around, _Papa Caleb_ ,” she teases, but Caleb sucks his teeth.

“I do not understand why none of you realise this is _not_ a real baby.”

“Caduceus and I both looked at Tally-“

Caleb lets out a slew of curses in Zemnian, cutting himself off when the infant stirs in his arms. He returns to his pacing but doesn’t need to hum it seems as the rocking motion seems enough to settle him once more.

“You have grown attached to an illusion and it will-…Jester, I know it looks cute. But it cannot continue to exist after we have Pumat look at it,” Caleb knows his words are harsh and attempts to at least reduce the look of upset rising in his friend’s face, mindful of the others sleeping around them. “It is not a real infant, it will not grow. It will not age. It will remain this way for as long as the spell remains and it will be in this state. An illusion of a baby is not the same as-…”

“What if it isn’t fake? What if you managed to make an _actual baby_ , Caleb?” she proposes and Caleb stops.

“It should not be possible. Creating life in that way-…I am not powerful enough for that, most mages are not. The fact that something was created at all lets me know that this cannot be real. In the impossible event that it is,” he adds, taking a seat by his bedroll, Talcott still secured in his arms, “then there will be discussions on how to proceed. But I do not want to be the bad guy because I did not allow myself to grow attached to something that will likely not be here in a week while you all... while you all suffer.”

Jester is quiet and Caleb doesn’t look at her, waiting for the judgement but instead he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Does it really make you feel like the bad guy?” she asks with sympathy and a small degree of guilt colouring her tone. Caleb is quiet and she lets out a huff of a sigh. “If we do have to get rid of Tally, then I think we’ll all be upset anyways. But, we won’t be mad at _you_ , Caleb. It won’t be your fault. You’re right, if he won’t grow we can’t go carrying a baby around all the time even though that would be super adorable and we’d be the ‘adventuring party with the baby’.”

“…I am worried about Fjord,” he says, a quiet admission she nearly doesn’t hear. “He…I think it will affect him the most and I do not want him to suffer in that way. Especially not due to my own mistake.” He glances at Fjord, watching the man sleep after spending far too long caring for the simulacrum and Caleb feels the guilt build up again. The party had assisted where they could but Fjord took care of it the most, insisting on it sometimes like this evening, not wanting to go to bed until it had been put to bed itself despite the way he tripped over his own feet and couldn’t keep his eyes open long enough to eat.

“I’ll keep an eye on him. It’ll be okay, however it happens,” she assures, giving him a pat on her shoulder before reaching out to take Talcott but he shakes his head.

“ _Nein_ , it is fine. It is already here. Go, take your watch,” he murmurs, giving a nod as she looks at him, a silent ‘are you sure?’. She chirps her agreement takes her mace to the treeline, sitting down and observing the field they border on.

Caleb had yet to hold the simulacrum, through a combination of active avoidance and a fair amount of hesitance from the others (whether that’s because they believed he would immediately dispel it on his own or because they don’t believe he knows how to interact with infants is undecided). He casts his magic detection incantation, eyes glowing while he looks over the simulacrum in his arms, a deep furrow in his brow at the lack of any other trace of magic beyond the conjuration magic and even that had dimmed minutely. Still bright, the infant-shaped entity enveloped in a swirling purple aura, Caleb watches it sleep, recasting the spell to search for any change in the colours.


	5. Chapter 5

**_ Chapter Five _ **

Fjord feels far more rested than he’s been for a few weeks, most definitely more than he has in the past few days. He sits up with a start when he realises its sunrise and he hadn’t been woken by Talcott yet, and while the infant had only been with them for three days or so, he had established a pattern of waking two or three times in the night for food or just for comfort.

He scans the camp, spotting Talcott, curled up in Caleb’s arms as the man sits, back against the same tree he’d been sitting by the night before. The pair are both asleep but the way Caleb sits it could be mistaken for meditation. Fjord watches them, the gentle rise and fall of Caleb’s chest and the slightly more rapid but still restful mirror of Talcott, snuffling softly against Caleb’s coat.

Its strange for a number of reasons. For one; seeing Caleb willingly hold the infant. He’d been so adamant about avoiding him, that closed off expression on his face and the almost fanatical insistence that (despite what all of their senses told them) Talcott was still at least partially an illusion, so seeing him with the baby sleeping in his arms was strange but oddly enough, not in an unsettling way. The second; seeing the man so twitchy and tense in his waking moments so completely relaxed, unbothered by the quiet bustle going around them as Caduceus prepared his morning tea and Beau did her morning workout routine.

Fjord approaches, getting close enough to hear the quiet snore from Caleb, and apparently for Talcott to sense his presence, shifting and blinking sleepily in the light of the morning sun. When Talcott’s eyes find Fjord’s, his little lips curl into a smile, showing the tips of the still growing teeth as he reaches out with grabby hands and makes incomprehensible noises.

“Shh, don’t wanna go wakin’ Caleb now, do we?” Fjord whispers, glancing at Caleb’s face and seeing that he was, thankfully, still asleep. He’s careful as he tries to extricate Talcott from the wizard’s grasp but he flinches as Caduceus drops his pot by the fire with a noisy clang and glances back over his shoulder, seeing the apologetic look from the firbolg. He waves it off and looks back, just to be met with Caleb’s own gaze, staring at him far too alertly for someone who has just woken up. His hands are still brushing against the small blanket they were using to swaddle Tally at night and he can feel the infant’s hand gripping his thumb, making those clipped noises he makes when he wants to be picked up.

“Hey,” Fjord says with an awkward smile. “You can go back to sleep. Sorry for conking out, I can take him now,” he murmurs, unsure when Caleb’s look of blank attention shifts into something almost…disappointed, looking down at Talcott like a regret.

“It is…surprisingly dense,” he murmurs, a thought spoken aloud more than an actual comment to Fjord.

“Yeah. Thanks for holding him,” Fjord’s reply seems to catch Caleb off guard, making his cheeks flush a little like he’s been caught doing something worthy of reprimand rather than rocking a child to sleep. And it clicked back into place for Fjord. Caleb still doesn’t believe Talcott is real. Being caught pandering to a living doll seemed to be something Caleb found worthy of embarrassment but Fjord doesn’t get a chance to voice his concern, Talcott being deposited into his own arms quickly before Caleb rises to his feet, a murmured ‘it is fine’ before he wanders towards where his bedroll had been set up but unused, packing it away methodically.

“Ba!” Talcott’s indignant attempt to get Fjord’s attention back is accompanied by a raspberry, something Jester has been trying to teach him and apparently succeeded in doing so, leaving drool all over the infant’s chin.

“Yeah yeah, come on, time for some of whatever Cad’s cookin’,” Fjord murmurs, his heart clenching pleasantly at the way Talcott rests his head on Fjord’s shoulder and clings to his shirt with his little fingers, babbling nonsensically as though telling him about his sleep time adventures.

-

Four days into their return trip to Zadash and Fjord couldn’t ward off the slowly building feeling of nausea and anxiety. Caleb had given up on his constant repetition of Talcott’s illusory origins, instead settling into a worrying quiet as he observes, sometimes casting a spell that makes his eyes glow, watching Talcott with furrowed brows and a clenched jaw.

Talcott is entertaining himself with jingling the little chains on Nott’s sash, Nott adding little trinkets to them to make them noisier while they travel in the back of the cart, Beau and Yasha at the reins while the rest are spread out amongst their horses and the back of the cart itself. Talcott makes a particularly loud jingle and immediately turns back to Fjord, pointing with a wide smile and a delighted ‘Ah!’, patting at Fjord’s leg with excitement and gesturing towards Nott’s belt. Fjord chuckles, nodding at Talcott.

“I saw, hon-“ he cuts himself off with a flush to his cheeks that deepens at Jester’s shriek.

“What were you about to call him? Oh my god it was going to be something cute, like honeypie or something, wasn’t it,” she teases, good naturedly but it still make Fjord shuffle where he’s seated. She pauses when she looks past Fjord, towards where Caleb is riding. Fjord hazards a glance as well, seeing the way the man’s shoulders tense and he keeps his eyes firmly on the road ahead of them. Jester’s excitement dies down and instead she leans forward, picking up Tally, rambling at him in infernal, which never fails to make the baby laugh for some reason.

The trip is far more subdued, the tension between Caleb and Fjord stifling enough that by the time the sun sets and they stop to set up camp, everyone makes a break for the river they discover nearby to restock their waterskins and wash themselves up after the long ride.

Caleb is quiet, scribbling in his book while Fjord splits his attention between setting up his bedroll and keeping Talcott from pulling everything else out of his pack as well in his attempt to ‘help’.

“Da!”

“Da?” Fjord repeats, as though the infant presenting him Fjord’s shirt was as interesting as Talcott seemed to believe it to be. He gently takes the shirt from Tally’s hands and shoves it back in the pack, scooping the baby up into his arms and carrying him around the fire, almost forgetting Caleb is there with them until the man speaks.

“I wish to apologise.”

Fjord stops in his pacing and glances over. Caleb has his eyes on the book in front of him, quill idly scratching something into the margins, more absent minded lines than any actual symbols or script, more trying to figure out what should come next in this apology he’s offering that Fjord is unsure is actually warranted, but the half-orc remains quiet, waiting for Caleb to work it out on his own.

“I have been…cold. I have been expressing my concern in a way that is not helpful and has only hindered any chances we have at resolving this issue,” he explains, letting out a sigh and placing the book to the side so the ink can dry before he folds his hands in his lap and looks up at Fjord. “The simulacrum worries me. Because as real as it appears, it was conjured. And conjurations are not often permanent. Only truly powerful mages are capable of creating something out of nothing that lifelike and have it remain there. While we like to jest and jape about my abilities-“

“Caleb-“

“Fjord. Please,” Caleb’s expression makes Fjord close his mouth, swaying a little as he tries to keep Talcott entertained enough to not fuss while he listens. “I am not as powerful as you seem to believe I am. Magic has limitations and those are usually because of the caster. It _cannot_ be a real infant because I am not powerful enough to have created it as you believe it is,” Caleb’s words are stern but there’s an apologetic undertone to it. Something pitying.

Fjord looks down at Talcott, seeing the way he plays with the ties of his shirt, feeling the warmth he emanates.

“No,” Fjord’s voice is stone and his expression reflects that. Caleb’s head quirks a little, eyes narrowing in confusion. “No. You can doubt yourself all you like. I know I’m not the fastest on the uptake when it comes to seeing through illusions but-…We’ll take him to Zadash but nothing’s gonna happen. Because he’s not an illusion.”

“…Even if… _he_ isn’t an illusion, Fjord-…that infant is the product of conjuration magic and someone at my level of ability…he would still be capable of being dispelled-“

“No.”

“Be reasonable-“

“ _Just-_ “ Fjord snaps, taking a deep breath when Talcott goes quiet, looking up at him with a wobbly bottom lip. He shushes him and paces around the fire again, not looking Caleb in the eye. “Give me proof. Give me proof that he’s not real, that’s he just some illusion, and I’ll believe you. But everything you’ve told me, every time you’ve said ‘it just doesn’t happen’ doesn’t mean jack shit. The impossible happens sometimes because magic is capable of some ridiculous shit. When you can tell me he’s illusion, and have Caduceus and Jester believe you as well, then we can talk about it.”

His words are clipped and Caleb is quiet in response. Fjord collects his pack and mumbles about going to wash up as he hears the others making their way back, stalking off with Talcott in his arms and a cold look on his face.

-

“No. No, no, no-“ Fjord’s voice is rough and choked as he sees Talcott, seated in the centre of a circle, Caleb sitting on the other side of it with a hand outstretched, murmuring some incantation. Fjord wants to move closer, Talcott is letting out shrill howls that pierce Fjord’s chest, that make his heart seize in his chest. He wants to pick up the screaming infant that’s reaching towards him and get him away, _he needs to get to Talcott_ -

“Fjord. It is for the best,” Caleb voice is quiet,sad, an attempt at soothing the frantic panic Fjord feels overwhelming him but it does nothing. He flicks his wrist, and then Talcott is gone. The sigil is scorched and Talcott is _gone, he can’t be gone- no no no NO NO!_

“NO!”

Fjord jolts awake with a shout, groggy and hyper-alert all at once. His hearts is rabbiting in his chest and a shrill screeching in his ears from Talcott, who he must have jostled away during his nightmare.

“What, what’s wrong?” Beau calls out, also woken from her sleep while Yasha darts over from her watch point, the magician’s judge drawn and ready to cleave whatever threat was present in two, but the only thing she sees is Fjord’s panicked shushing and the tears welling in his eyes that he barely manages to keep at bay.

“It-it’s fine. Just a-…Just a dream. Its fine,” Fjord murmurs, “Sorry, I’ll just- I’ll get him back to sleep,” he stammers, stumbling to his feet and carrying Talcott towards the edge of the camp as Beau steps in front of him.

“Dude, its okay, I’ll take him-“

“NO!” he steps back, clutching Talcott to his chest and that panic rises again, flinching as Talcott lets out a particularly loud wail. Fjord shushes him, murmuring quietly to the infant until the wails lower in volume and become quiet sniffles and whimpers. “I’ve got him.”

“Are you sure-“

“I’ve got him,” Fjord insists, not looking Beau in the eye, but she lowers her hands all the same.

“Okay. Let me know if you want any help, okay?” she tells him and he nods, thanking her for what was likely more than an offer to take Talcott for the night. He steps quickly out of the camp and into the moonlight of the nearby clearing, in view of Yasha because after Lorenzo, he’s not risking being entirely alone, no matter how much he wants to shut out the rest of the world for just a few minutes. At the very least, Yasha is discreet as she watches over them and he’s eventually able to get Talcott back to sleep, but he knows he won’t be any time soon.

 

-

-

Hope you enjoyed the newest chapter, have some more art <3 feel free to come by my twitter: [@oakyboo](https://twitter.com/Oakyboo) and scream at me


	6. Chapter 6

**_ Chapter Six _ **

Caleb can see Fjord slipping.

The man barely sleeps, not even when Talcott does, insisting that he’s not tired, its fine, ‘I’ll sleep later’ but he rarely does. He dozes as they travel, constantly awoken by the cart as its jostled by the uneven road but he doesn’t comment or allow assistance. He just looks down at Talcott with a smile when he shows him the new face Jester has taught him or babbles excitedly about the horses snuffling at his hand by the edge of the cart.

“I don’t think Fjord is doing okay,” Jester says quietly to Caleb as they rest on the night of their sixth day of travel. They’re still five days away from Zadash and Fjord has yet to sleep more than an hour at a time, the dark circles under his eyes and his difficulty focusing showing how much his intense need to keep Talcott fed and happy without assistance from the others (not that they haven’t attempted, Caleb has lost count of how many times Beau has tried to sneak Talcott out of Fjord’s arms so he could sleep just for Fjord to snap awake and insist he’s fine and send Beau away).

“No. No he is not.”

“Do you think…do you think you should dispel Tally?”

Caleb watches Fjord looking down at the infant sitting in his lap, a smile on his tired face as the simulacrum plays with an old empty flask they filled with pebbles to make a makeshift rattle. He’s delighted and Fjord looks relaxed, just watching with soft eyes and a matching smile.

“I think that would do far more harm than good at this point. We will take them to Pumat to determine what our next course of action should be. For now…I do not know,” he admits. Fjord’s eyes close but he startles awake again when Talcott drops the flask, handing it back to him and rubbing at his face.

-

Four days later, Fjord is asleep in the back of the cart, a makeshift canopy above him to block out the midday sun made with the cloth sash he’d normally have around his waist, Talcott also sleeping peacefully on his chest. It’s a smooth enough road and Caduceus takes extra care that they aren’t jostled enough to wake. Not that much would wake Fjord at this point beyond Talcott fussing. The man was out like a light as soon as he sat down, only waking long enough for Jester help him get situated in the shade before he dropped back off.

“How far out of Zadash do you think we are?” Beau keeps her voice low and quiet, looking around them for familiar territory. “Like a day or two?”

“A little over a day I think,” Caleb replies, his book open to the sigil once again, quill poised over his notes and comments on the simulacrum’s behaviour and magical aura, not that it had changed much. Nott peeked under the canopy, the only person able to get close to Talcott without alerting or waking him at all. She seems satisfied with what she sees and ducks back to sit between Caleb and Jester.

“Should we push through the night or stop and rest?” her question is answered when a rumble of thunder echoes through the valley, the source ahead of them. Thick cloud cover that rolled down from the mountains, bringing with it the sudden rise in humidity and the hum of energy in the air that made Yasha sigh contentedly.

“We will need to rest. I suppose the hut will be necessary,” Caleb murmurs, flipping to the appropriate page in his spell book.

A particularly loud crack of thunder startles Fjord and Talcott awake, the infant almost immediately starting to bawl while Fjord sits upright, looking around with confusion.

“Where are we?” he asks, squinting against the sudden sunlight in his eyes, eventually adjusting to the light and seeing the storm ahead of them.

“Still on the road. We will set up camp before we hit the storm. I think we should sleep in the cart with the hut tonight, _ja_?” Caleb suggests, watching Fjord slowly process what he says before nodding lethargically, momentarily distracted by Talcott who finally stops crying but still seems quite distressed.

“He’s never been in a storm before,” he muses, humming quietly, looking around. He seems more aware now, having slept for nearly three hours thankfully but his awareness seemed to be still focused outside the cart, as if waiting for something…

-

\--

-

They set up camp within the confines of the cart, most of them bedding down fairly quickly before the rain starts, kept away for the most part by the trees but the rest completely blocked out by the soothing deep blue of the magical hut Caleb manifested around them. Fjord however, ducks outside the relative comfort of the hut, pleading fresh air and room to pace so he can put Tally to sleep. Beau insists on following him. Caleb doesn’t need to concentrate, thankfully, on the hut to keep it maintained and his curiosity gets the better of him, sending Frumpkin out (albeit reluctantly so, with the rain dampening his fur) and uses his familiar’s vision in lieu of his own, leading the cat through the trees and up the trunk of an oak until he sits just above the pair.

“-all just worried, Fjord. If it was anyone else, you’d be just as freaked out as we are.”

“I keep tellin’ you, I’m-“

“’-Fine’, play a new song, would you? No offense, dude, but you look like shit. You’re barely on your feet. Let us help you take care of him until we get to Zadash and see the Pumats.”

“And after that?”

Fjord sounds off. His tone is flat, he sounds tired like has for a number of days now but this is a different kind of tired. Frumpkin’s hackles rise a little in answering discomfort but he stays put, listening to the exchange. Beau is quiet.

“After we get to Zadash, then what? We go to Pumat, then we…”

“Fjord. You don’t think…Are you actually _listening_ to Caleb’s shit about-“

“I know he’s real. I know he is but…Caleb’s still right. Sometimes real things get summoned and they can…they can go back or-or the magic is the only thing holdin’ them together. They can still get dispelled but I don’t…I don’t know where he came from but I sure as fuck don’t want him going anywhere alone. He’s…”

“…You think he’s _actually_ yours.”

Caleb feels the stuttered beat of his heart in his chest.

“Have you looked at him, Beau?” his words are little more than a hissed whisper, barely audible over the sound of the rain. “Jester likes to joke about that whole papa thing but… _Gods_ Beau, look at him. He looks…He looks…” he trails off, looking back towards the direction of the cart, over his shoulder like…

“Fjord you’re not…Fjord are you-”

Caleb drops Frumpkin’s sight, scrambling out of the cart and slipping for a moment in the mud as he sprints towards where Beau and Fjord had been, ignoring the calls from his friends. He catches sight of Fjord and Beau, the pair talking, Beau animatedly, reaching for him, but Fjord looks calm, steady as he steps just out of reach, Talcott held tight to his chest.

He glances at Caleb, expression blank, and he catches the words-

“I won’t let you take him.”

Then Fjord is gone, a flash of purple and white energy where he’d been standing that dissipated in purple and black smoke until only Beau stands beneath the oak tree.

“Where-“

Beau is staring at the empty space as everyone makes it to the clearing.

“What happened? Where-…Where did Fjord and Tally go?” Jester asks while Beau and Caleb stare blankly.

“He’s gone,” Beau sounds confused, like she’s having trouble understanding what she just witnessed while Jester just looks more frantic.

“Where did he go?”

“He…the range of that spell is…500ft? No more than that. Jester, can you use your teleporting spell today?” Caleb asks, cursing at the shake of her head, less at her and more for his lack of foresight. He should have know this was coming. Fjord’s distance from them; an attempt at learning to care for Talcott independently with the oncoming (perceived) threat of Zadash and the simulacrum’s potential dispelling. “What about location? Can you find out where he went?”

“I can,” Caduceus’s pink eyes glow and he cocks his head to the side, turning on the spot and stopping halfway directly west of where they’d been going. “He’s-… wait…oh no, Mr Fjord-“

“What?”

“I had him. He was moving west but he teleported again. He’s- he’s too far.”

“He was moving west, we know that much. Haul ass, we’re getting in the cart and going after him. He’s on foot with a fucking baby, he’s not going fast. Wait- no, no, no. The forest is too thick it’ll just-…Caleb? What do we do?” she asks, but Caleb just stares back, brow furrowed, an apology on the tip of his tongue that it seems Beau can see coming. She curses and points to Caduceus. “Get on a horse, we’re going after them ourselves. Jessie, Nott, Yasha, follow us in the cart with Caleb-“

“Wait-“ Caleb holds his hands up but Beau fixes a cold glare at him.

“No. Go with Jessie, Yasha, and Nott,” her words are harsh and he recoils but she breathes and rephrases with her jaw clenched in frustration. “Cad and I will be faster with just us on the horses. Go in the cart and just have Jester send us messages and we’ll keep track of him. He can only…how many times can Fjord normally teleport?” she looks over at Jester.

“Twice. Then he needs to sleep.”

“That’s fine, we can catch up to him,” Beau nods to herself, grabbing the reins of Sack while Caduceus wrangles Ball. The pair vanish through the trees, the thud of hooves against the mud and grab fading until it was only the constant white noise of rain.

“Come on, we can’t let them get too far,” Nott scrambles to the front of the cart, Jester plopping down beside her while Caleb drops into the back, Frumpkin appearing in his lap with a snap of his fingers. They’re half an hour into their trek when Jester starts spitting curses in infernal, blue eyes welling with tears of frustration and almost spooking the horses.

“What? What is it, are we stuck?” Nott looks around, finding no issues with their path ahead of them.

“No, it was Caduceus. He and Beau are stuck at a river. Fjord went past it when he teleported.”

“They cannot traverse it?”

“Its too deep. They’ll lose the horses,” she explains, rubbing furiously at her face. “Fjord’s gone.”


	7. Chapter 7

**_ Chapter Seven _ **

They catch up to Beau and Caduceus who are ducked beneath the canopy of the largest tree they could find, Caduceus patting Beau on the back while the monk shakes in futile anger before she finally spots the cart.

“He’s _fucking gone_.”

“We know,” Caleb calls back, finishing up his casting to change Frumpkin’s shape to that of a hawk. “Caduceus, do you know which direction he is?”

The firbolg pauses, eyes glowing as he casts the location spell again, eventually pointing north west, the opposite direction they were heading to get to Zadash.

“I cannot guarantee how long until he gets out of range,” Caduceus adds as Caleb sends Frumpkin off, the hawk taking off like a shot in the direction Caduceus is pointing, a hum of acknowledgment at Caleb’s request that he stays with Fjord when he finds him.

“He’s alone in the rain, Tally might-“

“I am more worried about the man than the illusion-“ Caleb snaps, words cut off when Beau stalks up and shoves him, the wizard stumbles backwards, falling into the mud.

“SHUT UP! WE GET IT! YOU DON’T THINK HE’S REAL! Its’ not like you haven’t been _drilling_ it into our heads, and now, Fjord’s _fucked off_ because you can’t get your head outta your ass long enough to realise _THE BABY IS FUCKING REAL!”_ she screams, cheeks flushed with anger and hands shaking as she holds back the urge to hit him properly. “What the fuck is your problem?!”

Caleb is quiet while Yasha tries to tug Beau out of the rain, murmuring something in low tones but the monk rips her arm out of the half-angel’s grasp.

“Come on! What makes you so sure when no one else can see it?”

“…I…I don’t know…”

“You were so sure of it a second ago. Out with it, asshole,” she snarls, fists still shaking. “You said it yourself. No signs of illusion magic, he fucking _grows_ , what makes you so goddamn sure he’s not fucking real? Because I think- I think you’re fucking scared because you fucked up and you want there to be a quick fix. You want something you can just _wave your hand_ at and it’ll go away but guess what?”

“Beau-“ Jester tries to calm the monk’s tirade but Beau just dropped to her knees beside Caleb, grabbing a fistful of his coat and hissing in his face.

“You made something that’s a part of you, _and_ a part of Fjord. You’ve looked at Talcott more than five fucking minutes. He’s your fucking kid and you just want to wave your hand and get rid of him _because you can’t live with your own fucking mistakes-“_

“Beau!” Caduceus called, his normally calming tone sharp and clipped. “That’s enough. Please.”

Beau snarls and releases Caleb, stalking back over to the river, eyeing the distance. She looks back over her shoulder at Caleb.

“I’m going after him. Do whatever you fucking want but if you think about coming after him with that illusion bullshit, there’s not gonna be enough of you to bury,” she growls, turning towards the river and taking a running start, launching herself as far across as she can which just narrowly misses the edge of the river. She, climbs onto the shore, sopping wet as she regains her footing and takes off in the direction Frumpkin was going in. He can still feel the familiar at the edge of his mind, commanding him to stick with Beau if he can’t find Fjord. He feels the bird’s affirmative before it stutters and fades into nothing, too far out of reach. Nott reaches out towards him but he brushes her off, getting to his feet, dripping with rain and mud.

“Caleb-“

“She is not wrong,” his admission quiets his friend. “I have been afraid. I have been desperate to prove myself correct because…this is not something that can be fixed easily. Or even at all. If…If it is true and I did-…there is no precedence here. This has not happened before, and I do not know what could happen in the future. Fjord knows that conjurations can be dismissed, I told him. If that infant can be subject to a dispelling…”

“But you wouldn’t,” Jester presses a hand against his shoulder, Nott’s curling around his wrist. “You know he’s real.”

“It would not stop others from trying to. And what-“ he cuts himself off with a disbelieving laugh. “What would Fjord and I do with an infant? Settle down in a cabin and _raise_ it-“

“Him,” Caduceus’ voice is low, stern where it is normally kind. “I believe we’ve passed the point of calling Talcott ‘it’. This is the first step to acknowledging the mistake you made and how to make amends. Calling your child-“

“He is not-“

“He is,” Caduceus is tall, gaunt but still dwarfing Caleb in height so when he approaches, looming over the wizard, it sends a small spike of fear through him. “Its not by normal means but you still had your hand, a rather big hand in all honesty, in creating him. You might not be his father, but he is most definitely your child. So treat him like it.”

Caleb, cowed at the reprimand, lowers his head and rubs at his eyes.

“What do we do?”

“I suggest we look for Fjord,” Caduceus has returned to his normal voice, soothing and warm as he places a hand on Caleb’s free shoulder. “Find him, make sure he and Talcott are alright. Then we’ll take Talcott to Zadash. We will find out once and for all what has happened and…we’ll proceed from there. And I hope the ugliness of dispelling magic isn’t on our minds?” Caleb shakes his head, receiving a light squeeze before Caduceus lets go.

“Alright then. Let’s go find our friend.”

-

\--

-

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

Fjord turns, stumbling momentarily as he sees Beau, stalking through the forest with murder in her eyes and her fists clenched at her side.

“How’d-“

“Caduceus pointed me in the right direction. But I picked up your trail a quarter mile back. Because, you know, you’re half-a-fucking-sleep with a baby and you’re leaving a trail a blind hobo could fucking follow,” she grouses, reaching over to take Tally, wrapped up securely in Fjord’s shirt, leaving the warlock in only his armour. Fjord goes to pull away but Beau catches his gaze, levelling him with a glare. “I taught you how to fucking hold him, how to change him, how to _feed him_. You really think I’m gonna do any worse damage to him than you just did running off with a one year old in the fucking rain?”

He releases Talcott, his arms twinging after relinquishing the weight.

“Beau-“

“No. Idiots don’t get to talk. Usually you’re okay, but you’re sleep-deprived, you’ve got fuckin’ _baby brain_ so you lose your Smart Person card until you get some fuckin’ sleep. Either way, we’re going to Zadash-“

“They’re gonna-!”

“Fjord, if you think for a single second I’d let them do anything to this kid then I’m gonna need to put this baby down so I can kick your ass properly. I hate _kids_. I like _this one_. What I _don’t like_ is what you’re turning into because of him and because of this fuckin’ martyr complex you’ve got going on. Other people can help you, its okay to ask for help. What’s not okay is cutting yourself off from people that can help you not lose your fucking mind. Caleb’s been an ass, I’ve made that _real fucking clear_ to him at this point. But…I thought you at least trusted me as a friend,” she bit out, checking over the infant. His temperature is fine, not shaking, just overtired as he sniffles plaintively into her robes. Fjord blinks back tears of exhaustion and upset, rubbing at his face.

“I do- you are my friend. I…Fuck I don’t know anymore. I-I panicked-“

“Cool. So, we’ve learned something. Baby-brains don’t panic well. So remove head from ass, and lets get to Zadash-“ she looks around, staring off into space. “Thank fuck. Good timing Jessie. I can hear you, we’re…west of the road. We’re gonna head back, meet us back the way we came.”

“I…Beau-…I don’t know what to do,” Fjord’s voice was quiet, a broken reedy thing, barely audible over the pit-pat of rain falling from the canopy onto the forest floor. “I…I know he hasn’t been here long but-…”

“Fjord-“ Beau lets out a sigh, holding Talcott with one arm while she reaches out with the other, giving Fjord’s bare bicep a firm squeeze, unsure whether the shaking is from the cold, the sleep deprivation or the still receding panic. “Something doesn’t have to be around long for you to love it. And Talcott…he’s easy to love. Do you wanna do what’s best for him?” Fjord nods, “Good. Then lets start by getting him somewhere warm and getting you some sleep. I promise, I’ll watch him while you do. Nothing’s gonna happen to him, okay?”

“Thank you. Fuck- I’m sorry, thank you,” Fjord rubs at his face, trying in vain to stop a few errant tears that slip through, following Beau’s lead towards the edge of the forest. The monk rubs her hand on his back in an attempt to soothe him and it does help a little while, while Talcott peers over at him, reaching out as his bottom lips wobbles.

“Ba.”

“Uh-uh kid, you’re with aunt Beau right now,” Beau wraps him up a little tighter, watching as the motion of them walking through the thankfully even grounded forest slowly puts the baby to sleep.

“I want…is it dumb that I want to keep him?”

“No…no its not dumb. But I think we need to figure out what we’re gonna do if he can be dispelled. There’s magic shit you can make, jewellery and stuff that could protect him. Or…shit we’re not even totally sure what he is, but if you want to keep him, Fjord, the others and I…we’ll help you where we can,” Beau assures, the pair walking the rest of the way in relative silence until they spot the muddied road through the tree-line. “There’s a dry-ish spot there, sit your ass down and rest until the others get here, okay?”

“Yeah, I…thank you, Beau.”

“Anytime.”


	8. Chapter 8

**_ Chapter Eight _ **

When the others finally approach, Beau is sitting on the ground, Talcott in her arms and Fjord’s head lolled over on her shoulder. The drizzle has entirely stopped and the sun peeks through the clouds as it descends towards the horizon, painting the sky gold and pink.

“Hey, come on. They’re here,” Beau murmurs, nudging Fjord in the side with her elbow. Fjord stumbles to his feet, still exhausted, overwrought with the adrenaline and the use of his limited magicks while so heavily sleep deprived. The cart comes to a stop beside them, Beau almost immediately grabbing the clerics to have them look over Talcott and Fjord, finding nothing that sleep and calm wouldn’t fix.

“That was-!” Jester’s eyes well with tears of frustration before she wraps her arms around Fjord, holding him tightly. “We were all so worried,” she’s almost surprised when Fjord gently pushes her away.

“Jester. I heard you.”

“What?”

Fjord still looks tired, with an undercurrent of something more hesitant.

“I heard you ask if Caleb should dispel Talcott,” he says, looking between her and Caleb, watching her and the wizard pale.

“I... Fjord I didn’t...I wouldn’t-“ she stammers, looking at Talcott and back at Fjord, confused at the look of understanding on his face.

“I know you were just looking out for us, that it might be the right thing to do. Both of you. I didn’t react... Shit I lost it. But...I don’t care what happens after this. I think its…I don’t want to leave Talcott with some stranger, I want to stay with him. Probably head to Allfield. If you want...If you wanna come visit I’d like that,” he murmurs hopefully. Jester wipes at her face and pulls him in for another hug.

“Of course we’ll come and visit!”

Caleb sits, staring with wide eyes as the others crowd around Fjord asking him questions, why he wants to leave the Nein, if they can go with him to Allfield to help him settle in. He’s busy watching the group, trying to process this information when a loud exclamation from Talcott interrupts his thoughts, the infant holding outstretched hands towards Caleb with only a foot between them.

Talcott watches him with those blue slitted eyes, something insistent about his need to close the distance between his hand and Caleb’s face.

“I think he wants you to hold him,” Beau says, tone too even to be casual. Her brown eyes are fixed on Caleb, questioning, piercing. She waits, watching Caleb’s face for an indication of how they should proceed.

“…I can hold…him. If you wish to give your arms a rest,” he murmurs, hesitant as he reaches out his own arms to take Talcott. Whatever it is in his face that Beau sees seems to satisfy her and he finds himself in possession of the infant, Talcott’s chubby fingers gripping his coat, face turned up towards his and big blue eyes taking him in.

Caleb lets out a pained grunt as Talcott pulls at his beard, quickly releasing at the noise before petting it as though in apology. Beau watches the exchange with a small degree of amusement.

“He likes pulling hair. Have fun.”

-

\--

-

The Nein cover a few hours of travel before they settle down for the night, leaving before dawn while Tally was still asleep in Fjord’s arms, after Caleb passed him back over albeit with some reluctance.

“He is warm,” was his excuse and Fjord just nodded, humming when the infant started to fuss, the rumbling baritone quickly soothing him back to sleep before Fjord does the same, managing another few hours of rest before the road became too unsteady to maintain it.

The gates of Zadash rise before them an hour or two before dusk, entering the city with no issue until they’re there, in front of the doors to the Vulnerable Vagrant.

“Come on. Let’s get your baby sorted out, then we can head to Allfield,” Beau murmurs to Fjord, helping him out of the back. Fjord looks at the shop front like the looming shape of a guillotine, hesitating, but Beau stands beside him, Caduceus at his other side while Caleb walks ahead. Fjord meets his eye, a silent question.

“ _Ja_. If we finish quickly, Talcott will not miss dinner,” he murmurs, the earnest expression placating Fjord enough to make it through the doors behind Caleb. Two of the Pumats are behind the counter, Prime and the third simulacrum nowhere to be seen, but the two out front are quick to go to greet them with smiles on their faces until they see Talcott, sitting up in Fjord’s arms and pointing at the shopkeeper’s with a delighted “BA!”.

“….Hey Prime!”

A pair of goggles peer out into the main space of the store, landing on each of the members of the Nein in turn until they meet the eyes of the infant, Talcott’s smile growing wider as he starts to clap at what he seemed to believe to be a very entertaining trick.

“How in the heck did you manage that?” He’s quick to gesture to the door, the Pumat that had been fixing up the stock on the shelves closing the door, turning the closed sign around in the window and locking up, skirting around the edge of the party with a quick albeit awkward smile towards Caduceus.

“I was hoping,” Caleb pulls out his spellbook, placing it on the counter in front of Prime, opened up to the sigil he’d replicated, “that you could tell me.”

The firbolg removes his goggles, pulling the book close and scanning over the runic symbols before finally settling on the mis-remembered marks at the bottom. He looks towards Fjord and Talcott, the warlock shifting uncomfortably with the need to turn Talcott away but the baby seems unbothered by the attention, jumping up and down in Fjord’s arms and patting his shoulder in excitement. He reaches out, babbling insistently at Fjord until he approaches. Prime watches closely as Talcott touches his little hand to Prime’s chin, feeling the light peach fuzz fur on his skin and giggling with delight. Fjord feels his heartrate pick up when Pumat’s eyes flicker solid white, narrowing ever so slightly in concentration.

“That…that is impressive. The result of heavy tampering of a _powerful_ incantation but impressive all the same.”

“It was not the result of tampering. I…I did not have long enough to memorise the runes and unintentionally replaced them with something similar in my haste,” Caleb admits. Pumat sends a look towards the Pumat emerging from the back room, the simulacrum realising what was going on and flushing lightly under the scrutiny from his progenitor.

“How long did you let him look at that spell?”

“Respectfully Prime, it was only a few seconds,” he replies. Prime returns his still white eyes to Caleb and his spellbook, pulling out the book the original spell is scrawled in from beneath the counter.

“A few seconds isn’t much time to copy a spell. The fact that you managed to replicate so much of it so accurately is a feat. And the fact that you didn’t accidentally kill yourself and all of your friends in the process as well as making…” he gestures to the infant.

“Talcott,” Nott supplies, catching the baby’s attention. Talcott pulls his hands away from Prime’s face, deciding that it was no longer as entertaining and starts to play with the cloth around Fjord’s biceps.

“Talcott,” Prime repeats, returning his focus to the sigil in front of him and beckoning Caleb over. “You have marked three of the incorrect runes. The Source, Aspect Focus, and School runes are mostly just a little off. The source is intended to be a single creature, usually assigned by providing some DNA. I assume from the appearance…” he looks over Talcott and Fjord.

“Fjord and I were both present at the time, yes,” Caleb murmurs.

“Well, the focus was across two creatures which didn’t play well with the inverted Aspect Focus, at least that is my assumption mind, without having actually seen the casting of the incantation. The inverted rune means instead of a perfect copy of the source-“

“It is entirely randomly selected pieces of them,” Caleb finishes, jabbing at the next. “The school rune- the school was intended to be illusion and conjuration, but-“

“It was depicted as conjuration in this particular sigil, as you can see, if you are of the magically inclined and capable of seeing magical auras. No sign of illusory magics in the infant or the sigil. You have created a real infant. What did you provide for components?”

“Gems, roughly a thousand gold worth,” Caleb replies.

“That is nowhere near the value you would need to create something so complicated. Something else would have needed to be consumed for the spell to work,” Pumat muses, going over the pages referring to the spell. “It says here you left an area of…Zemnian shorthand is tricky, but ‘a drained and deadened area extending a hundred feet in diameter’? Is that correct?”

“ _Ja_ ,” Caleb is barely paying attention, jaw clenched, looking over the sigils.

“Well, that and the drained feeling you experienced that you noted here would have been it defaulting to the immediate area and yourselves as consumable energy for the incantation. And the fourth incorrect-“

Caleb’s head snaps up.

“Fourth? What fourth, the other runes are identical,” he looks back down at the parchment, jumping between them quickly, matching up each stroke until Pumat gestures towards a rune on each. “They are exactly the same.”

“Close, but, respectfully, not exact. The strokes here is too sharp, too bold. If the way you wrote this is any indication to how you used it during the casting, then this may impact some decisions about little Talcott you may need to make,” he says, gesturing for Fjord to come closer, holding out his hands for the baby. Fjord hesitates but eventually places Talcott down, keeping contact with the baby.

“What are you gonna do?” he asks, the waver unintentional and not hidden well enough for Pumat to miss. The storekeeper gives Fjord a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Nothing that’ll hurt the little tyke, I promise,” he says, shifting his attention to the baby and murmuring a short incantation, accompanied by a familiar set of gestures- Dispel.

“No!” Caleb’s hands jerk to stop him but Pumat holds the incantation, splitting his attention between it and the wizard. Fjord’s attention is also fixed on Caleb, hands gripping Talcott firmly enough to pull him away at a moment’s notice; waiting on Caleb’s word to make the decision.

“This is just verifying something I am 99% certain of. Nothing will happen,” he adds, finishing the incantation with a wave of his hand. Talcott remains. “Because you created real flesh and blood creature. No magical tethers to the place to keep it from leaving, no magic holding it together, nothing. For all intents and purposes, you have created a real infant,” he says with a certain amount of gravity to his words that show how thoroughly impressed and _unimpressed_ he is with Caleb.

“So- he won’t-“ Jester pantomimes something exploding into nothing and Pumat shakes his head.

“He’s as real as any of you. The amount of energy drained from the space around you and likely you yourselves, was the result of conjuring something permanent. The runic symbol there, that reflects permanency. A softer-handed stroke,” Jester giggles and Prime manages to continue without interrupting his train of thought, “with an indefinite end will make the spell less costly but impermanent. Your defined, bold mark makes it permanent, which would have put more strain on the sources of energy, you and your Mister Fjord here, and the area around you, until enough energy was drawn to complete the spell,” Pumat explains while Fjord takes Talcott off the counter and holds him to his chest, face blank but shoulders tense.

“So…he won’t…” the half-orc murmurs, in almost-disbelief.

“He won’t just up and vanish on you. Congratulations on your new arrival. But I will have to recommend, respectfully, that you never tell another living soul about how you made him,” Pumat’s tone lowers into something weighted, looking at each of them in turn before finally settling on Caleb. “And you need to destroy that sigil and your notes.”

“What? Why?” Nott, who is normally wary of people that much larger than her, is unperturbed, full of indignation and paranoia. “Its his spell, he shouldn’t have to- Caleb!”

She ducks back when Caleb tears the pages out of his spell book, face impassive as he crumples them up in his hand and sets them alight with a single murmured word until they are ash sprinkling onto the floor. Another word and a wave of his hand and the ash is gone, leaving the floor as clean as when they’d arrived.

“He is right in having me destroy it. For both Talcott’s sake and for ours. If someone were to get a hold of that spell and attempt to combine creatures- can you imagine if someone, far more powerful, were to attempt this spell with something like a tarrasque and a dragon? Or any multitude of other species? It is best that we never allow Talcott’s origins to come to light,” Caleb murmurs, his eyes meeting Fjord’s. Fjord nods, looking over at Pumat.

“Thank you so much for your advice, Pumat.”

“You are very welcome. You take care with that mysterious half orc child you found while wandering through the forest,” he says with a pointed look and Fjord looks confused for a moment but leave as Beau and Caduceus lead him out. They leave the shop while one of the simulacrum holds the door open for them, locking it behind the Nein and leaving them in the lamplit streets, a few passersby spotting Talcott and cooing at the infant on their way past.

“So what now?” Beau asks, sitting herself on the back of the cart while the Nein look at each other silently.

“I think,” Caleb murmurs, “that we should help Fjord make it to Allfield. But first, a night in Zadash to celebrate would not go amiss.”

“Agreed,” Caduceus calls out, taking the reins of the cart and letting everyone get settled before they make their way to the Leaky Tap.

The night is filled with drink, a surprisingly placid Talcott in the presence of so many people, and, eventually, a quiet night up in a room with just Fjord and Talcott, the warlock putting the infant to sleep on the bed while Fjord curls around him, slowly drifting off…

_Knock Knock_

Then Caleb’s voice.

“Fjord. It is me. May I come in?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL FOR READING, bless your hearts and all the horribly positive responses you've given me for this train wreck fic. This is the beginning of a series that I very much hope you enjoy. If you have questions, comments, or requests, feel free to chuck 'em below, and if you want to make content for this AU, don't hesitate to ask me <3

**_ Chapter Nine _ **

Fjord unknowingly curls in a little tighter around Talcott but quietly calls out an assent, watching the door open and allows a thing strip of candlelight into the room. Caleb closes the door behind him and the half orc looks him over. Dressed down to his shirt, pants and socks; gone are the book holsters, coat and scarf, leaving Caleb looking much thinner and meek looking than Fjord ever recalls or even likes (knowing his habits of pushing food around his plate more than eating it). But part of that could be the hesitance openly displayed on his face and the almost skittish way he looks at Fjord, then down at the floor on his way to the desk at the other end of the room from the bed.

He leans back against it, bracing his hands on either side of his hips as he seems to gather the words he wants to speak from the jumble inside his head. Fjord is patient, finger stroking absentmindedly through Talcott’s auburn hair.

“I wanted to discuss this away from the others. I…I had said things and proposed things to you about Talcott that, in the light of confirming he is real…Fjord, I am sorry. I wanted to at least say as much before I left-“

“Left- what? Caleb-“ Fjord flinches as Talcott snuffles but resumes his even breathing against Fjord’s chest, the warlock speaking again in a far softer tone. “What do you mean leaving?”

“I…I made a mistake in attempting magics far more powerful than I should have, because…Because I was bored. I felt as though I were stagnating and-…I meddled with things more powerful than myself and dragged you in. And worse still, I proposed eliminating Talcott because I was afraid. I can see the way you look at me. I know we were not exactly attached at the hip but you look at me now like…” he gestures towards Fjord with something akin to sadness and sighs with resignation. “I do not think it would be wise if I were to remain. At least for the time being,” he amends.

“That’s- Caleb, you don’t need to leave.”

“I really do, Fjord,” Caleb’s voice is gentle, but his voice is stone. “The others talk. They want to remain with you, with Talcott, as much as they can. As much as you will allow. So he will not be lacking in care-“

“This isn’t about people to care for him. I…Caleb, he’s your kid too. I don’t want to edge you out-“

“I cannot be around him, Fjord,” Caleb’s voice rose a little, quick to simmer back down when he glances at Talcott. “Every time I look at him, I remember everything I have said about him. I did not see a child, _my…_ child. I saw a mistake…I still do. And he does not deserve that.”

Caleb’s admission makes Fjord’s heart pang beneath his ribs, wanting to say something, anything to convince him otherwise but the look in Caleb’s eyes…

“You’ve made your mind up, then.”

“I have. I am leaving in the morning. Nott is already aware and I have told her I would like to go alone,” he fidgets, wringing the end of his shirt in his hands. “I…I would like to return when-…when I have worked some things out on my own. If that is alright?”

“…Of course its alright,” Fjord sighs, automatically shushing Talcott when he makes quiet noises of distress. “I’ll get Jester to send messages when she can. Or Caduceus. Don’t…don’t feel obligated to answer or tell us where you are…but-“

“I will. Thank you Fjord."

"Take care, Caleb. And don’t hesitate to come back. When you’re ready,” Fjord murmurs, giving Caleb an encouraging smile. He looks down at Talcott and seems to come to some decision, extricating himself carefully from the infant who remains asleep as he pads across the room, stepping in close and wrapping Caleb up in a firm hug.

Caleb tenses at first, unsure why but he relaxes into the hug, arms coming up to wrap loosely around Fjord’s waist, nose pressed against Fjord’s shirt because of his superior height so he was forced to breathe in the scent of salt water and new baby (though the second scent was something he wasn’t as familiar with considering how long before Talcott it had been since he’d held or seen a baby) and it allowed him to calm his heart and just feel the warmth emanating off of the other man. Fjord eventually release him, but only just; hands still clasped around Caleb’s biceps looking down at the wizard. Caleb looks up at him, seeing something shift in Fjord’s eyes for just a moment, a look of curious realisation, then a quick dart towards Caleb’s lips. Fjord moves a little closer, then a little more…

Talcott cries.

Fjord stops in his tracks, cheeks flushing red at the realisation of what he was doing and Caleb’s do the same when a traitorous thought tells him he could stay. That he could remain with his friends as they travel to Allfield, and then longer still. That whatever curious thought Fjord had just had could be expanded upon, explored.

But he looks over at Talcott who is sitting up in the bed, rubbing his eyes and crying plaintively. Fjord gives Caleb one more look, tempted by something for a brief moment but makes his way back to the bed to take Talcott into his arms.

“’S alright Honey-bee, ‘s alright. Shh,” Fjord murmurs into Tally’s hair, swaying gently from side to side. When he turns around to speak to Caleb again, the wizard is already gone, the door closed gently behind him.

-

When Fjord meets with the others at the cart, they are all quiet, Nott especially so with her mask over her mouth, her bandages coming away wet every time she goes to rub at her face.

“Someone looks rested,” Caduceus comments, looking over Tally with an encouraging smile. “You slept through most of the night, didn’t you little one. Didn’t give your dad much trouble?” he says conversationally and Talcott babbles back as though he were really replying. Whatever it is he says seems to amuse Caduceus who steps away to continue packing their bags into the cart and onto the horses.

“You okay?” Beau asks, trying to be as subtle as she can with the close proximity to their friends. “Nott says Caleb talked to you before he left, did he say when he was coming back?”

“He just needs to settle himself first. Its…I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it,” he replies, seeing Nott rubbing at her face beneath her mask harshly. “Hey, Nott.”

“What?” she sounds tired and nasal, looking over at Fjord with red-rimmed eyes.

“I was wondering if you wanted to take Talcott for a little bit. I’ve been hogging the cart so much, I think its my turn to take a horse for a bit,” he explains, seeing that understanding in her eyes at his thinly veiled lie. But she doesn’t comment on it as she holds her hands out for Talcott to be handed over.

“Time to play with Nana Nott-“

“Wait, Nana?”

She turns to stare at Fjord like he’s daft.

“Caleb’s my boy and this is his boy. So, Nana Nott.”

Jester squeals and starts firing off in rapid infernal which, as always, makes Talcott giggle while he plays with his Aunt Jester and Nana Nott. Fjord situates himself on Sack, waiting until everyone else is ready before they take off, out of the gates of Zadash and south towards Allfield, not noticing the cloaked figure standing just beyond the gates in the trees, scratching the neck of the cat on their shoulder as they turn and leave.


End file.
